


The Colour of Despair

by AvaRose



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Major Character Injury, Sorry Not Sorry, Tina to the rescue, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRose/pseuds/AvaRose
Summary: Grindelwald as Percival Graves met Newt at the bank instead of Tina Goldstein. He gets his hands on Newt’s suitcase first, but he’s far from amiable. With the Obscurus stored inside, Grindelwald is far from letting Newt go.





	1. Everything Burned

**Author's Note:**

> I love Newt Scamander. He was brilliantly portrayed by Eddie Redmayne. No, really, I do love him. But I also love whump so...

The world spun around like a whirligig. With the charcoal walls distorted, the ground looked far away, even if he was curled on it. The ceiling was closing on him, ready to swallow him whole. Clenching his teeth, he dropped to his knees, a hand settling on his heart hammering in his chest. His head was throbbing, each pulsation broadening the fissure splitting his mind in half. His eyes were closed, but the darkness itself was swirling. There was a deep, metallic thud that reverberated in his ears and then, a voice whispering urgently.

  
His vision was hazy, but he could distinguish a dark-haired woman coming closer in careful steps, as if afraid he might lash out at him. He didn’t understand her dread since he could barely stand up. She looked anguished as she uncertainly reached out for him with a shaking hand, repeating the same word again and again.

  
“Mr Scamander? Mr Scamander?”

  
_Who are you_ , he wanted to ask but his voice failed him. Her hand grazed his, as delicate as a caress of a thunderbird’s feather, and he instinctively flinched. He pulled his touched hand in his lap like a wounded animal.

  
“I’m not going to hurt you.”

  
_How can I trust you?_ The answer came by itself: it wasn’t a question of trust but a question of choice. If he decided not to follow her, then he would probably rot in this room for the rest of his life. If he decided to follow her, then maybe he had a chance to see the sunlight again. Avoiding her eyes, he managed to rise by himself on his wobbly legs. The woman watched him with a frown before approaching him. She tapped her shoulder. He leaned on her hesitantly, swallowing the rubbles of his pride, and he hopped along with her to the opened door of his cell.

  
As they walked along the walls in the shadows, his mind bubbled with questions, mostly dominated by, _Who are you?_ closely followed by, _Why are you rescuing me?_ and also _Do I know you?_ He had to admit that she was vaguely familiar, but it looked like a veil had fallen in front of his memories. His access to them was blocked. He took a moment to observe his saviour: brown hair cropped to her chin, features tightened by concentration and hard brown eyes where experience shone.

  
“I’m Investigator Tina Goldstein. We’re going to MACUSA.”

  
He startled, realising she had talked. Her eyes were now riveted on him. He preferred staring at his feet rather than facing them.

  
“MACUSA?” The words tore his throat, scraping his vocal chords.

  
Tina stopped dead in her tracks, stiffening. One arm snapped in front of him, preventing him from taking one more step. Her eyes were darting across the corridor, looking for any potential threat. He stood next to his saviour in silence, peering at her. Her stance screamed that she was a hunter. Her muscles were strained, ready to uncoil if needed. Her head was tilted upward, as if to balance books on her head. Her fingers were curled around her wand. Her grip was unyielding.

  
Then her wand was springing, slashing the air like a whip. A blue beam shot from the tip, bursting in the air. There was a faint cry of surprise, then a heavy thump like someone falling on the ground. Cautious, he peeked out, but he saw no corpse lying on the ground or blood splashed on the walls; only his saviour beckoning the end of the alley with her head.

  
He fell in her slow and soundless tracks, somehow reassured by the presence of someone so excellent in fighting. Their escape seemed relatively easy, the other shadowy corridors devoid of life. Yet once they arrived to the exit, she held a hand to stop him. Far too curious, he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of abysses instead of eyes. Then, a clash of red and blue exploded in his irises as spells were cast. They bounced off Tina’s protective shield in an array of colours.

  
“Leaving so early? We didn’t even have time to talk.”

  
“Mr Scamander, stay behind me.”

  
The frown turned into a sneer. “Look who comes to take you away from me, Scamander,” Grindelwald chuckled. “They sent the one Auror who can’t arrest anyone properly. Oh, my apologies, you’re not an Auror, aren’t you? You’ve been demoted to Federal Wand Permit Officer.”

  
Tina growled, rising her wand, “Gellert Grindelwald, I _am_ arresting you on behalf of MACUSA.”

  
“Don’t be pretentious enough to think you can defeat me.”

  
Something akin to chagrin fleetingly crossed her face before her features hardened. “Mr Scamander, please refrain from intervening.”

  
Even if she wouldn’t have said a word, he wouldn’t have interfered. He was rooted where he was, unable to look away from the face haunting his days and his nights. Then she stepped in front of him, fierceness etched on her features. She was the first to attack. While her spells held a deadly accuracy, they couldn’t get past Grindelwald’s shields. Her stoical expression turned into a scowl, but her rhythm never faltered. Her eyes shone, adamant on proving that an obstacle was meant to be overcome. Somehow, her determination gave him faith. He couldn’t fathom how one woman could stand up to Grindelwald, but hope was soaring from where it had been buried to hit him in the chest. He felt rejuvenated.

  
Then she grabbed his arm and pulled him away. He jolted but complied as she dragged him away. He only had time to see a burst of flames erupting from Grindelwald’s wand to understand. His heart threatened to give away as the memories cut him like knives.

  
_The fire._  
 _The bellows._  
The charred flesh.  
The agony.

  
“Mr Scamander!” He snapped at her imperative call, shrinking on himself as he crossed her eyes of steel. “We have to get out of the building to avoid the Anti-Apparition wards.”

  
Her tone offered no arguments. He could read in her eyes the future: she was going to take him out of here. They barrelled down the hallways, or rather, she did. He was still unsteady on his legs, swaying as he staggered forward, catching himself with the wall. Shadows were twisting on the ceiling. They seemed to be curling around his ankles, slowing him down. He felt like a drowned man trying to keep himself afloat. Then tiny hands wrapped themselves around his biceps, giving an encouraging squeeze as they guided him.

  
“Just a little farther, Mr Sca—”

The flash of a spell momentarily blinded him. His instincts kicked in before he could even comprehend that he had grabbed Tina by the shoulders to switch places. She was no beast of his to take care of, but he would be damned if he didn’t do his best to protect her. The curse struck his side, leaving him breathless as pain seared through his abdomen. The agony was overwhelming, present in every pore of his skin and every crevasse of his soul. He collapsed in a heap, knees buckling underneath his weight, and gasped for air. He cracked his eyes open only to close them a second later. Still, it had been enough to see Tina’s face. A peculiar expression was plastered on her features, one he had seen it countless times in a creature’s eyes. It was fear, but a fear that paralysed you, that made you quake in your shoes, that made soldiers run away from battle.

  
She was calling his name. Her lips were moving. The vowels made them rounder and the consonants, pinched. Then he saw nothing more.

 

***

  
_1 week ago_

Newt Scamander encountered someone he thought was Percival Graves in a bank while he had been chasing his Niffler. The establishment was equal to paradise to the creature, always seeking for shiny, sparkling objects. It was stealing brooches, coins, pendants and even shoes buckles, storing them in his belly pouch. Its smallness made it hard to catch, and its speed and agility rendered the operation even more difficult. The older wizard helped him, against all odds, to catch the creature back. When no one was looking, he had accioed the beast in his arms by a discreet flick of the wand only Newt had witnessed.

  
Once outside, Graves handed him back the Niffler with lips curled in amusement, yet his eyes were austere as his gaze roamed over the magizoologist’s lanky frame.

  
“Breeding magical creatures is illegal in America, Mr...?”

  
“Newt Scamander.”

  
He was glad Graves hadn’t focused on his surname, like everyone else who jumped on the occasion to remind him he was the lesser of the two Scamander siblings. Newt fought against the animal as he forced it back in his suitcase, relieved as he secured the latches.

  
“Do you have any other magical creatures that might cause harm to the No-Maj?” Graves sighed at Newt’s response, consisting of a shy smile accompanied with a small coughing fit. “Open it.”

  
“I-I’m sorry sir, but I assure you that these creatures are not dangerous. I’m taking care of them and they’re not going to harm anyone.”

  
Graves merely flicked his cards. _Percival Graves, MACUSA, Director of Magical Security, Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement._ It was just his luck to fall on an Auror, but did he really have to fall on their leader?

  
“Mr Scamander, I’d rather not take you in.”

  
His tone was filled with genuineness, but his eyes were still frigid. Newt’s brows creased as he considered his options, not that there were much to begin with.

  
“Alright, but not here.”

  
Before Graves could react, he gripped his forearm and Disapparated. They reappeared in an empty alley plunged in penumbra, one Newt had spotted when walking on the main streets. They leaned on the brick walls underneath the rickety fire escape stairs, almost invisible to the untrained eye. Newt startled when he found Graves’s wand jutting from under his chin.

  
“I wasn’t– I wasn’t trying to trick you,” he spluttered, flattening himself against the wall. “I just didn’t want anyone stumbling on the suitcase when we were inside.”

  
The Auror removed his wand yet didn’t pocket it. He pointed it at the suitcase and drew a circle in the air. A thin filament of light hit the latches and automatically they flipped up. Almost instantly, the case opened. Newt knew, even if he saw nothing but a barely visible blur, that Dougal was sneaking out. He didn’t expect Graves to notice the Demiguise as well, but he reacted immediately when the Auror’s wand rose to target the creature.

  
“No! Don’t! He’s harmless... well, relatively harmless. Just, uhm, let me...”

  
He moved to face Dougal and to motion him over when the creature leaped on Graves. Newt let out a strangled cry as the hex shot forward. Yet being able to predict the most probable future, Dougal had already climbed on Graves’ shoulders and the spell hit the wall, leaving a profound dent in the bricks. Before the situation could worsen, Newt grabbed the Demiguise, shielding the beast with his body. He watched Graves with frantic eyes.

  
“Don’t, please, he’s not like this usually. I don’t know what set him off. I’m really sorry.”

  
“Get on with it,” Graves snapped.

  
Every trace of warmth, even fake, had vanished from his countenance. Newt swallowed, nodding as he picked Dougal up, “Uhm, yes, of course, very sorry to keep you waiting...”

  
He hopped in, mindful of the Demiguise perched on his arm. Yet Dougal wasn’t even looking at him; he kept on staring at Graves, who was following suit. He didn’t like the man. If Newt knew any better, he would even daresay that Dougal was wary of him. The two men and the beast arrived in the shed. There was harmony in the chaos, where his bestiaries were strewn across the table, vials dangling from the ceiling, books stuffing the bookshelves, buckets piling in the back of the room.

  
Graves was nodding, pensive, “I see. Was it for your research that you’ve come to New York?”

  
Newt frowned, quite certain he hadn’t mentioned anything about his manuscript, yet played along, “No, actually, it was for Frank. He’s my– I mean, he’s a thunderbird.”

  
“A thunderbird? You’ve managed to bond with such a dangerous creature?”

  
He was about to reply when a sharp cry made the entire shed shake, the tools rattling. Newt slammed the door open, revealing Frank who was shrieking, eyes flashing in alarm. Its powerful wings were sending gusts of wind sweeping across the landscapes. Dougal hopped off his arm, running to the Occamy nest. Newt frowned. His beasts were restless. He moved to shush them, but everywhere he looked, there were ears flat against heads, fangs bared, tails whipping the air, nostrils flaring, hooves slamming the ground and bodies quivering.

  
“Are they always like this?” Graves bristled.

  
“N-No, they’re not. I don’t know why...”

  
His voice was drowned by the growing ruckus. He muttered a few protection spells under his breath, wand flicking, concealed behind his worn coat. Graves was staring at the animals, brows creased in disapproval. Newt was skeptical as he eyed him. He doubted the Auror had the best intentions at heart. The way he scrutinised each of his creature screamed of a hunter searching for a trophy to bring home. Newt wasn’t going to let him. His fingers firmly clutched his wand.

  
“Excuse me, Mr Graves, but—”

  
The Auror cut off. “Are you sure you don’t have any more dangerous creatures, Mr Scamander?”

  
For a second, time stilled. Newt was aware Graves was acting most peculiarly. He was also aware of Frank screeching, its foreboding cry carried across the suitcase. He knew there was nothing that could prevent a confrontation. Graves’s eyes were skewering him on the spot.

  
“I assure you that—” Newt nonetheless began, but he stopped when a spell was fired at him. He ducked, wand springing out of his coat, and didn’t hesitate. “ _Stupefy_!”

  
The spell ricochet against an invisible shield, hitting the shed. The roof combusted instantly, the flames licking the wood like a famished beast. Newt couldn’t help but wince as the majority of his information, stored in his little haven, he had carefully collected dissolved into ashes in front of his very eyes. Graves stepped forward with nonchalance, dusting his shoulders.

  
“Aren’t you full of surprises, Mr Scamander?”

  
“ _Confringo_!”

More wood burst, rebounding on the ground. Graves countered immediately and Newt dodged, rolling on the ground. The curse was disintegrated as it hit the magizoologist’s shields. His creatures cried out. Newt was scaring them. No, _Graves_ was scaring them — or rather, Not-Graves.

  
“Surely you can do better than that?” Not-Graves sneered.

  
“Depulso,” Newt shouted, but the spell was absorbed by his opponent’s shield, its effect nullified.

  
“What a shame. _Bombarda Maxima_.”

Newt didn’t have time to duck. He was caught in the explosion like a leaf lost in a storm. While he expected to be thrown against his shields, he rather careened across the air, his fist still clutching his wand. He crumbled on the earth, coughing, and propped himself up on his elbows. The curse had completely destroyed his protection spells. He blinked owlishly, scowling. He wasn’t as outstanding as Dumbledore in duelling — he doubted anyone could ever be —, but he certainly wasn’t mediocre. Still, his shields had been blown as easily as tearing a sheet of paper.

  
“Enough of this pretence. I am Gellert Grindelwald. Pleased to meet you.”

  
If anyone could ever be as outstanding as Dumbledore, it was Grindelwald. His power rivalled with his, and some dared say they were equals. However, Dumbledore was a good man, which the second was not. There were rumours about Grindelwald seeking three objects to guarantee him invincibility, immortality and invisibility, about Grindelwald privy to knowledge that belonged solely to the Dark Arts. Yet Newt knew none of this. He couldn’t even, for Merlin’s sake, fathom how Grindelwald was aware of his existence, but the dark wizard was standing in flesh and bones. Newt scrambled to his feet, managing to cast a protection spell before the earth was blasted off his feet.

  
“You have interesting animals here, Mr Scamander. I heard that you had a very, special one.”

  
His animals. His beasts. How afraid and agitated they must be. Caught in his thoughts, Newt jolted at the beam hurtling towards him. He dodged, the Severing Charm splitting a few wisps of his hair. He straightened, his feet shuffling to adopt a duelling stance.

  
“My beasts are not for sale, thank you very much.”

  
“How fortunate that I am not here to buy one of your beasts. I am here to claim it.”

  
“You’ll have to get through me first.”

  
Grindelwald snickered, “I’ve heard rumours about an Obscurial encountering a British wizard in Sudan. It was you, wasn’t it? And what you are hiding is the Obscurus, am I right?”

  
Newt gasped, his mind went blank for a moment of utter panic, before he yelled, “ _Fumos Duo_!”

  
A thick smoke spread from the tip of his wand to drown the entire glade. The only light was Frank’s lightning, crackling in the skies for a few second before vanishing. Newt shook his head, breathing out to calm himself. Nobody knew about the Obscurus — nobody could’ve known about it. He had been the only wizard in a close vicinity when he had found the host, just a girl barely reaching eight years old. The only wizard willing to help her. The only wizard present to gather what was left of the destructive force and to encase it in a magical field. It seemed Grindelwald really was privy to knowledge he mustn’t know.

  
Still, even with the threat of a dark and powerful sorcerer getting his hands on an ever darker force, he couldn’t focus properly with the anguished cries of his creatures echoing across his home. He had to make sure his creatures were unharmed. It stood at his first priority, Obscurus be damned. Newt ambled blindly through the smoke, wand raised and ready. If he could create a gap in the Extension Charm that connected with the outside world, maybe some of them could escape. He was aware that the wizards who were going to catch them wouldn’t treat them as he wanted, but it was better than to be exterminated by Grindewald.

Something brushed against his leg, pulling against the fabric. He peered down, catching silver hair and two globulous, black eyes. It was Dougal. He was indicating west with one crooked finger, his orbs glowing blue.

  
“I must say I’m disappointed, Mr Scamander,” Grindelwald sighed. “I would’ve thought a mature wizard like you would face me like a man instead of resorting to petty tricks. _Ventus_.”

A warm stream of air whooshed by, slowly clearing the smoke. Newt blew a part of his Extension Charm, cracks splintering in the fabric before they broke into a medium-sized hole. The Demiguise gave one last nod before fading away as he became invisible. Newt watched him leave, pride and apprehension swelling his chest. Douglas was, perhaps, the most capable beast he had had the pleasure of encountering. The wizard then ushered his creatures to him.

  
“Go on, go on,” he murmured, lips quivering as some of his beasts nibbled at his coat and whimpered. “I can’t come with you. I... Mummy can’t come with you, but there’ll be people to take care of you.”

  
_Mummy_. He had called himself their nurturer once, then their guardian, but he had ended up as a mother. Never once was he their saviour. Never once was he superior to them. Never once did he doubt his love for them. Never once would he give up on them. He knew he couldn’t buy enough time to make them all leave, so he grabbed the closest to him. The Occamy, rather than slithering through the gap, were nestled at his feet, curling against his ankles. Pickett the Bowtruckle remained hidden in his breastpocket. The Graphorns were hesitant as they approached, head cocking. The Niffler blinked at him, patting its belly pouch.

  
Newt rolled his eyes. “Yes, I promise there will be tons of jewels. Come on now, go on.”

  
He gave him an encouraging push towards the portal. The beast didn’t move, rather glancing at him. It fisted out a tiny brooch from its pouch, handing it to Newt. The Hufflepuff’s heart sank as his fingers closed around the parting gift. Then the Niffler leaped through the hole.

  
“There you are. _Impedimenta_!”

Newt’s head snapped back in surprise but he wasn’t fast enough. However, the spell never reached him. The female Graphorn had jumped in front of him, effectively protecting him from the jinx. The turquoise beam bounced off the beast’s scales without leaving a scratch.

  
“Faithful beasts are the most annoying.”

Newt saw in his eyes the curse he was about to cast. He pointed his wand at the three Graphorn, shrinking them so they wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. The infamous green light missed him by a few inches. Grindelwald was like a firing canon, piling spells after spells, his arm jerking in the air like a maestro. While Newt was far from defenceless, he was overwhelmed by the relentless bombarding. He was faltering, stumbling backwards as the fight gained in intensity. The onslaught left him breathless, his forehead dewed with perspiration and his hands, clammy. There was no flaw in his opponent’s technique and no pause for him to be offensive.

  
“Where it is?” Grindelwald roared, his flow of curses inexhaustible. “Where’s the Obscurus?”

Before Newt could respond, the wizard’s aim shifted. His target became the troops of frantic Mooncalves, wandering around while whimpering. Newt’s eyes widened.

  
“ _Incendio_!”

A jet of flickering flames latched on the beasts’ skin. Newt’s heart leaped at his throat, almost clawing its way out. He didn’t miss a beat as he roared back, “ _Aguamenti_!”

While the torrent of water positively extinguished the fire, the acrimonious smell of smoulder still hung in the air, burning his lungs. His creatures were still running wildly, shrieking, some rolling on the ground in pain. And the spell had rendered him vulnerable for a precious second that Grindelwald had seized. He didn’t even speak or agitate his wand. Thin cords lunged at Newt, coiling against his ankles, his forearms and his torso. He collapsed, writhing against the bonds, but they only tightened as he struggled.

“Since you’re so unhelpful, I’ll find the Obscurus by myself, but first, I don’t have any interest in your creatures. They’re trouble I don’t need. So I’ll just,” he waved his wand ominously, “do some pest control.”

  
Newt squirmed even more, eyes flashing in alarm. “No! Don’t kill them! They didn’t do anything. Let them go away. I promise they won’t interfere, but please don’t hurt them.”

  
“But your suitcase would be so much lighter without all that useless weight, don’t you think?”

  
“No, don’t—!”

  
Grindelwald grinned as he held his wand aloft. The conjured fire was voracious. It scorched the entire glade, pulverising his shed and setting the drapes separating the habitats afire. The wind picked up, bringing the flames higher, as if they were reaching for the sky. The various homes he had built for his animals were engulfed. The rocks turned to dust. The mountains yielded under the pressure. Cinder swirled in the air, searing the grass.

  
Everything burned.

  
_Everything burned._


	2. The Most Vicious Creatures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and reviewing and leaving kudos!

His fingers curled around the sheets. The images bombarded his mind.

  
_The fire._

  
_The charred flesh._

  
_The wand snapping in the air._

  
_Two eyes as beady as pebbles impaling his soul._

  
His stomach churned. Newt jerked up into a sitting position only to lean over the edge of his bed. The copper taste of blood was exciting his taste buds. He retched, almost afraid to realise he had coughed his heart out, yet nothing but bile escaped his mouth. He squinted, blinded by the much too bright light for his eyes, accustomed to darkness. His wheezing was tearing the silence of the room asunder, but he was too busy clearing his head to mind.

  
“Mr Scamander.”

  
He could recognise his saviour’s voice among millions. He looked up, his vision hazy by the sudden movement. Tina Goldstein crossed the distance between the threshold and his bed in three long strides, kneeling by his side once she reached him. The two watched the other for a while before she decided to break the silence.

  
“How are you feeling?”

  
“I-I’m alright,” he retorted, his voice gravelly from the lack of use.

  
She smiled, head bobbing. “I’m glad.”

  
He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to say. His eyes remained riveted on the floor, as their conversation died as soon as it’s been sparked to life. Newt felt comforted by the silence. Silence occurred when Grindelwald was absent.

  
“Mr Scamander, you’re inside MACUSA, so you are completely safe here. I know you’ve just woken up and you must’ve experienced horrible things, but catching Grindelwald is one of our top priorities. You’d be a great help if you told us about...”

  
Her voice faltered. Newt shifted, fleetingly taking in her expression. He analysed the hunching of her shoulders, the nibbling of her lips and the furious flutter of her eyelashes. She was just like him, in this precise moment. She was forced to do things she didn’t want to.

  
“You don’t know what I’ve been through,” he murmured, “and it’s better like this.”

  
He shuddered against his will. It was better not to think about it, but he kept on reeling back to it. He kept on thinking about it. He kept on tumbling down the hill of memories, and although he was clawing his way back to sanity, he kept on drowning in the quicksand of culpability. The room was swimming in his vision. The waves were threatening to submerge him. They were eroding the barriers keeping him from shattering. He closed his eyes, breathing out.

  
“Mr Scamander...”

  
“Newt.”

  
“Newt,” she started again, “I have something for you.”

  
She rose, going to the door that stood ajar. Then she motioned over at whoever was standing behind, sending furtive glances back at Newt. The magizoologist craned his neck, wincing at the slight strain, but his eyes retained their curious gleam. Tina was looking at thin air expectantly, but then the spot rippled, an ape-like creature materialising.

  
“Dougal,” he choked.

  
The Demiguise ran up to Newt, leaping on the bed, yet cautious as he sat down. Newt, however, spread his arms open without hesitation. The creature didn’t have to be told twice as he gingerly let himself be embraced in Newt’s arms.

  
“He’s the one who guided me to you.”

  
“He’s...” He had to pause, his heart capsizing. “Is he the only one...?”

  
Tina Transfigured an empty vase in a chair on which she sat. “I’ve been tasked by MACUSA to catch your beasts. In the beginning, I didn’t know they were yours. I reckoned they belonged to someone who had let them loose, which was, in fact, the case. I’m still searching for more. When you’ll be better, you can accompany me. For now, I’ve found Occamy younglings with your Demiguise, a few Kappas, a Niffler, miniature Graphorns, and a couple of Bowtruckles.”

 

 _Then the others...?_ He leaned back down on the pillows, pulling the sheets closer until it covered his nose. Dougal drew away as he stared at him with amber orbs. Newt forced himself breathe. She was still searching. There was still hope. Yet he felt like he was combusting by an inner fire spreading through his body.

  
_Combusting just like his creatures._

_  
Turned into ashes._

  
How many of them had he sheltered? How much time had he spent examining them, feeding them, patting them, taking care of them? He had rescued them from traps, freed them from traffickers, saved them from ignorant wizards, then had eaten by their side, shared their habits, watched them grow. A boulder was stuck in his throat, and sandpaper was rubbing against his eyes.

  
“Your Demiguise was hard to find,” Tina added. “Each time I was close to get it, it vanished. When I last caught sight of it, it was standing outside Graves’s house, indicating Grindelwald’s shields. I knew something was up. Then I found you.”

  
 _Then the others..._ He had remained hopeful, almost foolishly, that they had all crawled out of the burning suitcase and that they would find a guardian to cherish them. But with Tina in front of him, knowing there might be no other survivor than six species of his creatures, he couldn’t suppress his tears. He turned away, hiding the streams of water running down his cheeks. He bent down, curling in the sea of sheets, hiding himself from Tina.

  
“Mr Sca— Newt, it’s alright.”

  
“You see, Miss Goldstein,” he choked, voice wobbling, “they were my creatures. Not just creatures. My creatures. And I... I spend my time wondering what I could’ve done to save them. What could I have done to...? Could I have done something?”

  
Tina wanted to reach out yet stalled, wondering if it’d startle him and scare him away. She shook her head even if he couldn’t see her, “It’s not your fault. There can still be more out there.”

  
“Is should’ve done more.” He sniffed and sighed in a mixture of despair and frustration, his eyes blazing. “I should’ve... It’s not fair. My creatures...”

  
Tina was weeping silently now, but she didn’t move to wipe her tears. “I don’t know you well, Newt, because we’ve just met, but I do know something. Your heart is wide open for those creatures you keep. You are a giver. I know you’ve done everything for them. I know you would do it all over again. But you have a vision and it shouldn’t be wasted. I’ve read your file, and I know you were running all over the world for them. You were interested in them not to exterminate them but to befriend them. Creatures still need you. I daresay the wizarding world needs your vision.”

  
She breathed out. Newt was immobile on the bed. Had she said something wrong? She was more a woman of action. While words were a weapon she had polished through the years, she had trouble using it as a healing ointment. Still, leaving him in this state without knowing if he would be fine made her uneasy. She had never met the man, but she had heard and read about him. And she knew him. With a flicker of the wand, a stack of papers along with a quill landed softly on the bedside.

  
“I’ve been told that writing could help. I... I’ll be going now, Newt. Please, take care.”

  
She left the room without any of them making a noise.

 

***

 

Everything burned.

  
Then it didn’t.

  
Droplets fell from above. They splattered against the dried earth, slithering through the fissures. One of them caught the curve of his cheek. The fire hissed, smoke rising from trees’ carcasses. Clouds of charcoal as if scribbled by an artist had gathered in the bleeding sky. Swirling in the sky, in the heart of the storm stood an eagle-like creature with three pairs of wings.

  
“Ah, yes. The thunderbird,” Grindelwald snorted. “You really do have meddlesome beasts.”

  
If he hadn’t been bound with cords biting through his skin and coughing from too much inhaled smoke, he would’ve muttered _I do my best_. Instead, he squirmed, looking up to Frank in the far distance. He had never let the thunderbird unleash his powers since there was too little space for him. He had almost forgotten how beautiful his beast was in his element. While Frank was immensely helping by putting out the fire, Newt preferred to see what he had considered his home burn instead of Frank getting killed. With all the strength he could muster, he whistled. Frank’s beak let out a cry in the far distance as an answer.

  
“Frank!” Newt hollered. “Get out!”

  
The thunderbird roared, the thunder rumbling even louder in the sky. Tendrils of lightning crackled, flashing, striking the ground haphazardly. One of them struck the earth just a few meters away from Grindelwald. Any condescending expression on his face vanished.

  
“If you don’t control your bird, I’ll roast it.”

  
With renewed motivation, Newt yelled again for Frank to leave. Something he would never allow was his creatures sacrificing themselves for him. Yet the thunderbird didn’t budge.

  
“He’s afraid,” he told Grindelwald, his eyes never straying away from Frank. “He cares about me. I-If you let me go it might calm him down.”

  
With a non-committing grunt, the dark wizard snapped his fingers. The ropes melted on his command. Newt sprang on his feet, arms spread open in the air. Frank shrieked, circling closer to the ground. Yet the beast’s eyes were still distraught. Newt glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see that Grindelwald wasn’t brandishing his wand. Then he looked back the creature, his voice steady as he spoke words he didn’t quite think.

  
“Frank! Frank, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m not hurt. Please, calm down.”

  
Frank screeched again, but this time he landed on his rock, wings outstretched aggressively. He was dwarfing both wizards, who knew that by one movement, they could be blown away by the creature’s power. There was not an ounce of trust directed to Grindelwald, but uncertainty tainting in his orbs as he stared down at the magizoologist.

  
“There you go, there you go. Easy there,” Newt whispered, tiptoeing forward. “Easy there.”

  
He raised a confident hand, waiting for Frank to nudge him first. After a second or two, the thunderbird titled his head compliantly and rubbed his beak against Newt’s palm. Newt would’ve cracked a smile if it had been under different circumstances. Instead, his lips were drawn in a tight line as he hoped his eyes carried enough emotion for Frank to understand he had to leave.

  
“If you try anything on me, he’ll attack,” the Hufflepuff declared to Grindelwald.

  
The dark wizard didn’t answer, but Frank bristled. Newt swivelled, spreading his arms even if his body couldn’t entirely shield his beast, but the spell caught the thunderbird’s right wing. Frank roared as he started to convulse, eyes screwed shut. His wings were twitching, feathers rustling, the wind picking up at an alarming rate. His mighty legs buckled underneath him and he almost fell of the rock as the Cruciatus Curse overrode his senses.

  
“No, no, no, no,” Newt gasped, wand pointed at Grindelwald. “ _Diffindo! Deprimo!_ ”

  
Newt had never yearned to see a wizard hit by a spell he had cast until now. Yet everything he threw at him, from something as fickle as a Sneezing Charm to the powerful Reductor Curse, rebounded against a magical shield. His vision narrowed, the corners darkening until he saw nothing but the dark wizard’s mad grin. Newt had no idea he was capable of throwing such awful curses before. He had heard about them and had even witnessed some, but he had never had the nerve to try them. He was a pacifist, a kind soul, but even benevolent souls could be pushed to the limits.

  
“Solvas Quidvis!”

  
His lips twisted in a parody of a smile when Grindelwald’s concentration was broken. The wizard was forced to counter Newt’s curse, thus ending the Unforgiving Spell. Frank crumbled to the ground, wheezing, flinching when Newt kneeled by his side.

  
“Are you going to kill me, Mr Scamander?”

  
No, he wasn’t going to. Newt knew better than that. But there was a part of him roaring, eager to take over, vociferating he had to personally send the man to the pits of hell. His eyes were dark as he glowered to him, but his patting on Frank’s ruffled feathers was tender.

  
“I won’t hurt your creatures if you show me the Obscurus.”

  
One glance around the suitcase and he knew Grindelwald was lying. Some of his creatures had died. Others were fatally wounded and lying idly on the ground like shipwrecks. Many were cowering in fear or looking for an escape. Their complaints were ringing in his ears. The scent of charred flesh still hung on his coat. He wanted to usher them away, to bury them in their natural habitat, to protect them from him, but he was just Newt. He was a human, and humans were the most vicious creatures he had ever encountered. For that, for being human, he himself was vicious. If he hadn’t brought them inside his suitcase, then maybe they’d be alive in the wild, with others of their kind, delighted to roam in a glade, to preen under the sun, to play in the snow, to run across the savanna, to swirl in the open sky. Most importantly, they’d be away from humans. From him.

  
“Follow me.”

  
There was nothing left to be said. He was human, and even if he didn’t want to, it was engraved in his genetical code. The best he could do was to let them go. Let them return where they come from. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulders at Frank. _Let you return to Arizona._

  
“Magnificent,” Grindelwald gasped as Newt moved the drape aside.

  
The Obscurus was hovering around, tendrils of darkness grazing the shield occasionally. Grindelwald approached as if enthralled, fingers reaching out. Newt remained silent. The dark wizard could get killed, for all he cared. It would be better like this. Just as the tips of his fingers were about to graze the shield, they retracted.

  
“To think you of all people managed to draw an Obscurus away from its host,” the dark wizard sneered. He swirled around, snapping, “Can’t you get it out?”

  
Newt didn’t look down as he answered. “It can’t survive outside the shield. It’s lost most of his powers when I separated it from... from her.”

  
“Are you telling me this is all you’ve got? Absolutely nothing?”

  
“I-I wouldn’t call this nothing. This Obscurus is a magical being that should be studied so we can understand it better and also treated with care—”

  
“You and your magical beings,” Grindelwald snarled, wand at the Obscurus. “ _Finite Incantatem_.”

 

The shield disintegrated before one last shimmer. For a second, the Obscurus floated in the air. Both wizards held their breath as it stretched, but then it writhed as if in a seizure. The dark mass was shrinking, as if something was squeezing it and adding more pressure. If it had been capable of speech, Newt was convinced it would’ve been screeching.

  
“Do something!” Grindelwald boomed.

  
“I told you it couldn’t survive outside the shield,” the magizoologist retorted evenly, scowling. “You have to put the shield back.”

  
The Obscurus was as big as a pea now, still contorting. It sent magical pulses that itched their skin as it struggled to survive. Yet as Grindelwald contemplated it, contempt and disappointment etched on his features, there was nothing but ruthlessness at his core.

  
“It’s useless without its host. I don’t see what use I can make of it.”

  
Perhaps he was a mad man but Newt lunged at the disappearing mass. Just as he was about to close his fingers around it, the last dark wisps vanished. His fist grasped at air. He released a breathless scream. His eyes were stinging as he remembered the Sudanese girl clinging to his pants. The air had never felt colder as it whipped his cheeks and tousled his hair.

  
“You’ve wasted my time, Mr Scamander.”

  
Newt turned to face him. His eyes were shaded, dark circles underneath his eyelids contrasting starkly against his ashen skin. His shoulders were sagging under an invisible weight. Fingers with nails encrusted with dirt closed tightly. Snow billowed around his feet. The space between the wizards was very empty, now devoid of the creature linking them together.

 

“I showed you the Obscurus. It was by your fault that you destroyed it. Now let my creatures go.”

  
“Most certainly.”

  
But humans were the most vicious creatures of all. Newt should’ve known.

 

 

_His professors taught him there were three Unforgivable Curses. The first meant to remove all will; the other, to inflict pain; and the last, to kill. It had terrified him that he, as a fairly decent wizard, was able of such dreadful things. There had been people in his class whispering about how they could force one person they hated to humiliate themselves, or how god-like they felt to hold someone’s life in their hands. Then one student had mentioned something._

_  
“Imagine what we could do with dragons. We could organise duels to which one is more tamed.”_

_  
Newt, sitting in the back of the class, had looked up from his the desk, hands fidgeting. His light breakfast was churning in his stomach. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. The students were laughing, soon throwing odds about which species of dragons would most probably win. How could they laugh when they were extirpating the creatures from their homes and forcing them to bind to a tyrannical authority? How could they laugh when they wanted to use the Cruciatus Curse as a punishment when the beast wouldn’t comply?_

_  
It was perhaps in this very moment that Newton Scamander had realised how degrading humankind could be with animals. In History of Magic, when everyone was drooling on their scrolls, he had been on the very edge of his chair and scribbling furiously as Professor Binns spoke about magical beings. In his naive youth, he had believed humans had learned from their previous mistakes. Yet as he sat across the classroom in his fourth year, he knew nothing had changed._

_  
It was perhaps in this very moment as well that he had decided to take care of those creatures. Professor Kettleburn had noted since the first class that Newt was a natural with beasts. Instead of being revolted, of handling the creatures like a bomb about to explode, or being contemptuous, he had approached them like one lost friend._

_  
“Mr Scamander, you should consider a successful career in the domain,” Professor Kettleburn had told him when Newt had stayed behind after the class to help him take care of the creatures._

_  
The only career he could ever consider was the domain, if he was honest. His overall grades were alright, but in Care of Magical Creatures, he would’ve gotten three O’s instead of one if Professor Kettleburn had been allowed to. Magical creatures were easier to understand. They were gentler, more sincere and more open. Newt believed humanity could learn a great deal from them, whether it was for their natural properties or simply their way of behaving. Humans were unfathomable, hiding obscure thoughts and holding grudges, envy rousing within them when their neighbour was happy, going as far as killing the other sometimes._

_  
He hadn’t pictured himself sitting in an office to fill documents on rogue creatures, but there he was. His eyebrows kept on creasing on each file he was skimming through._ Casualties: Three dead hippogriffs. Decimated colony of Kappas. Uncontrollable fire killed trees holding Bowtruckles. Wounded dragon: to be terminated. _He refused to stay confined in a room while creatures were being hunted and then, as they so coldly put it,_ terminated _. He refused to be the only one aware that creatures were meant to be befriended, not_ terminated _._

 

_Yet in the end, he was the one to ultimately terminate them._

 

  
“Most certainly,” Grindelwald repeated.

  
For humans were the most vicious creatures of all. Newt already knew.


End file.
